I don't have any regrets, really, except that one. I wanted to write about you, about us, really. Do you know what I mean? I wanted to write about everything, the life we're having and the lives we mi...
Heaven winked at you, right? Maybe. Maybe it did. Or maybe it was just an airplane and a cloud. But if heaven winks at anybody, it's probably the less-than-conspicious seekers; the ones who choose the...
He pours himself more coffee, draws out a final, really final, line on the tabletop. Maybe he’s just not … awake enough to be gifted. Maybe one day, why not today, he’ll bust out of his lifelong drows...
God save us from people who think they're smarter than they actually are.
Clarissa will be bereaved, deeply lonely, but she will not die. She will be too much in love with life, with London. Virginia imagines someone else, yes, someone strong of body but frail-minded; someo...
Yes, she thinks, this probably how it must feel to be a ghost. It’s a little like reading, isn’t it—that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing any particular part bey...
We’d hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander ideas of ourselves.
We never fight. It's true. They bicker, they sulk, but they never explode, never shout or weep,never break a dish. It has always seemed that they haven't fought yet; that they're still too new for all...
Venture too far for love, she tells herself, and you renounce citizenship in the country you've made for yourself.
She thinks of how much more space a being occupies in life than it does in death; how much illusion of size is contained in gestures and movements, in breathing. Dead, we are revealed in our true dime...
Peter's mother was grand, in her way. She managed to complain almost ceaselessly without ever seeming trivial or kvetchy. She was regal rather than crotchety, she had been sent to live in this world f...
Like the morning you walked out of that old house, when you were eighteen and I was, well, I had just turned nineteen, hadn't I? I was a nineteen-year-old and I was in love with Louis and I was in lov...
It's stores, it's the whole thing, all that shit everywhere, 'scuse me, that merchandise, all those goods, and ads screaming at you from all over the place, buy buy buy buy buy, and when somebody come...
I know a conquistador when I see one. I know all about making a splash. It isn't hard. If you shout loud enough, for long enough, a crowd will gather to see what all the noise is about. It's the natur...
I had blundered again, obscurely, and rather than go on worrying over my behavior, I decided to just give in and dislike Alice.
He's filled with a sense of childish release, the old feeling that because you are sick, all your trials and obligations have been suspended.
Gus the driver is everywhere and yet he appears nowhere, not in portraits or photographs, not even in the stories of men like Barthelme and Carver, who were all about guys with jobs and prospects like...
Gratitude is the only appropriate response to everything that happens.
Dünyada en çok istediği şey, o olmayan ama tıpatıp onun gibi olan, yardımsever bir diktatörün idaresinde yaşamaktı - ülkeyi gerçekten o (kendisi) yönetseydi, karşı çıkma, eleştirme hakkından vazgeçmes...
Dear Leonard. To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard. Always the year...